Cretus Cruor Duo Fraternis
by Elysia of Corellia
Summary: From blood, two brothers. Tangling with manticores can be fatal. Too bad one person never managed to figure that out. Founders' fic with Godric and Salazar.


Hello! I happen to be quite intrigued by the Founders, but for some reason, you never seem to find enough stories about them. So, here's one of mine - it goes along with the others I've posted, but you don't have to read any of them to read this. Enjoy!

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Cretus Cruor Dux Fraternis**

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The dawn was splendid that morning, more so than usual. As the last stars faded in the soft grey sky, a light had showered beams over the clouds, remnants from the night's thunderstorms, and the menacing formations had swirled with pinks and golds and blues. Freshness lingered in the air from the rainfall. With great suddenness, a blazing orb had leapt into the sky, illuminating both the watcher and a long bundle of cloth nearby. 

Salazar Slytherin allowed a smile to cross his face at the new-born day before turning. The other occupant of the cave was sleeping - or at least, he had been. Apparently the desire for slumber could not compete with the brightness now shining in his face, and he grumbled incoherently, rolling over and throwing an arm up to block the sunlight. Smile broadening into a devilish grin, the awake teen poked at the other, rewarded with an irritable grunt. Slowly the other boy rolled over, glaring upwards; the effect was thoroughly ruined, however, by the bleary blinking of brown eyes.

"Sal…" he whined sleepily. "'S too early t' get up."

Taking another poke, he laughed at the involuntary flinch. "Nonsense, Godric, the sun has already risen, therefore making it past time to be up and about."

The blonde grumbled under his breath, then looked towards the sky. "Aw, it's only barely up. Why'd you wake me?"

"Lazy lion… Because, silly creature, I spent the majority of the night hunting for myself."

"So?" Apparently, he mused, his friend was not yet awake enough to grasp more than basic thoughts.

"So, if you do not come and hunt, you shall have nothing with which to break your fast." Surely that was not too difficult to understand. A blank expression informed him otherwise, and he sighed, half in amusement, half exasperation.

"Get up, Godric."

The direct order seemed to have no effect. "Don' wanna." A yawn.

"Godric, don't make me force you up…" Much as he was fond of him, the other boy would complain ceaselessly if he did not get fed. Making him rise now in order to find something to eat was by far the easier challenge.

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, I think I would, my friend. You see, I have already secured your wand. Now up, before I resort to drastic measures." Honestly, he was a quick learner; it had not taken him more than a week to devise a charm for locating - and keeping - the other's wand. Contrary to belief, he had no desire to be hexed, nor cursed, nor jinxed, and ensuring that Godric could not reach his wand when waking was only common sense.

Grumbling even more, the tawny boy stretched slowly, glaring all the while. Salazar offered a hand to help him up, but it was swatted away with an annoyed snarl as he clambered to his feet himself. He waited patiently for the other to finish stretching before turning away into the forest. A few moments later, he was joined by the still-sleepy boy. Sparing a look sideways, he snorted in amusement.

"Have you become so accustomed to the lion that you now transform when sleeping?"

"Huh?"

Bringing his hand up, he tugged at a bit of blonde hair. "This ragged mess is more of a mane than a normal head of hair." It was certainly true; the thick, tawny stuff stood out at all angles from head, eventually falling to shoulder blades. Salazar shuddered. He did not envy the other boy the task of combing it out when next they wanted to visit a town or city.

Godric gave him an injured look. "There's nothing wrong with my hair."

"Aside from the fact that it is full of tangles and dirty besides, you mean."

"It is not!"

The dark-haired boy turned frankly disbelieving eyes on him. Squirming slightly beneath the silver gaze, Godric nevertheless refused to withdraw the words.

After a few moments, Salazar spoke. "It is most certainly so."

Godric huffed. "Fine. Tangled, maybe. Dirty, no."

"You are absolutely right. Dirty it is not. It is filthy." He sniffed disdainfully. "As are you." Cats… Far too lazy to ever do anything. Now, if only his friend had acquired a cat's cleanliness as well as laziness. "The scent will terrify anything into bolting long before we get near it."

"Hey!"

"Yes?"

Protests began to come forth, and Salazar simply raised an eyebrow. Within moments, they'd subsided, and the blonde boy wore a look of defeat. "Fine. You win." A slight growl. "Again."

"Don't I always?" he asked blandly. "You will wash before we hunt, then."

"Yes, yes, I know, I know."

At this point, the light babbling of the spring made itself known. Kneeling at the bank, he took some of the water in his hands and sipped at it. While he did not require much due to his heritage, he still needed to drink occasionally to live. His companion held back from the water's edge. Predictably, he was leery of the cold and did not wish to follow through with washing. Smirking, Salazar pointed his wand at him, careful not to be seen…

"Wingardium leviosa!"

Hovering just above the center of the stream, Godric glared back at his friend. "I will kill you for this," came the dire promise.

"Oh? Think again - I've still got your wand." With a casual flick, the enchantment ended and the tawny-haired boy fell two meters into the rippling spring. A few seconds later he surfaced, shivering; Salazar grinned smugly, conjured a bar of soap, and tossed it at him with orders to use it quickly.

"Even you sleep sometimes," Godric threatened, "and I'll be waiting."

"Undoubtedly."

"I'll have my revenge."

"My apologies, but my wards are still far better than you can break."

"I've been learning."

"Have you? Astonishing."

"Just you wait…"

"I think, my friend, that I shall be waiting for a very long time indeed."

"Want to make that a bet?"

"Certainly. What shall we use as collateral?"

"Ah…"

"Come now, you should have some idea. You were the one to suggest the bet, after all."

"Well, it's not exactly my fault if there's nothing to bet with out here!"

"Then you shouldn't have suggested betting."

Godric began to say something, thought better of it, and snapped his mouth shut. Salazar smirked. Ah, such fun, this verbal sparring, and he always seemed to win. Now if only his friend were a better opponent…

"Finished," the blonde told him.

"Decided you weren't going to kill me after all?"

"Ha, ha. No, I have decided that I am more hungry than angry at the moment. But I _will_ still kill you, don't worry."

"I shall not, I assure you."

Stepping out of the stream, his friend looked down at himself in dismay. "I'm completely drenched."

"And… that is my concern, how?" He was favored with a murderous glare. "I'm sure you will dry quickly; it is summer, after all."

"Early summer," he was corrected. "It's not that hot yet."

Shrugging disinterestedly, he replied. "Warm enough. You won't freeze to death in this weather."

"No, just be very uncomfortable for quite a while." Godric began walking along the riverbank, searching for any potentially ripe berry-bushes or wild fruit trees.

Salazar tossed his wand to him, and he caught it absently, slipping it into the glove on his right hand. From there, it would be easy to draw, yet protected from accidental loss. A rather ingenious creation, actually, the dark-haired one thought, before crossing the stream to hunt the other side.

A flash of green-brown in the waters caught his eye.

"Do lions eat fish?" he wondered casually.

"Fish? Fish is fine. Why?"

He could not possibly be that tired, Salazar decided. This level of mental stupor was incredible, even for him.

"Why?" he repeated sarcastically. "I wonder. Tell me, my friend, what are we currently walking beside?"

"A stream."

"And what do we know of that lives in streams?"

"Frogs, insects, leeches…" The voice trailed off. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh,'" he mocked. "Are you truly so exhausted that you cannot even think? Did you decide to roam about last night while I was hunting?"

That would be a truly unlikely supposition, he knew. Godric was truly fond of his rest, and would never have done such a thing, let alone without alerting him as to his absence… Why then was he not responding? A smile began to spread across his face; this was absolutely fascinating news.

"So do tell me where it was you spent the night," he commented casually.

Across the stream, the other mumbled something under his breath, and Salazar frowned. Though his hearing was by far better than a human's, it was not strong enough to decipher run-together, barely audible words. "Repeat that, please?"

Godric appeared to take a deep breath. "Before I tell you, I wasn't in any danger. I stayed far enough away, and I made sure there was no way it could see me or hear me."

Oh, splendid. Why oh why did the fair-haired boy have to be a magnet drawn toward lethal animals? It bordered on the absurd at times. Now, what creature was this?

"Define 'it', Godric." A small amount of ice was injected into his words.

"A manticore! And really splendid, too. Beautiful beast. It has no cubs with it right now, but.."

Salazar hastily intervened; there was no telling how long his friend would talk about this new fiend if allowed. "Did you think to mask your scent?"

A look of chagrin flew over his face. "Ah… no."

Casually, he asked his next question. "How many nights, exactly, have you been watching it?" Oh, for an answer of one and only one…

"Two."

"From the same location?"

"Yes…"

Idiot. "Then you won't be going back tonight." He waited for the outburst.

Predictably, it came swiftly. "What! Why not?"

Salazar sighed and prayed for patience in dealing with his friend. "Because by now it will have most certainly noted the recurring scent and marked it for further watching. It'll be waiting for you to come back - and manticores, if you did not know, have very little mercy for trespassers." He paused. "Lazy and irksome as you may be, it doesn't mean I want to see you dead."

"I wouldn't get myself killed. I'm not that bad in a fight."

"No, you're not. But," he added in sharper tones, "but, it only takes a single jab, a single dose of venom, and then you'll be dead. It's lethal to humans, remember? Do you really want to take that risk?"

Surveying his friend's expression, Salazar bit back a defeated groan. Why must he be so courageous, so sure that death could never touch him? Softening his voice, he pled with him, hoping that some amount of reason would penetrate the stubborn head.

Unfortunately, the stubbornness inherent in Godric's character prevented him from hearing a single word.

"I'll be fine."

"And when it finds you?"

"Oh, come on, Prince. It's only a manticore."

"Only a manticore. Only a manticore? Godric, you idiot, not even a lion could survive those beasts!"

And yet, that was the end of the matter. The tawny-haired boy refused to listen to any kind of protestations. Premonitions of doom rushing through his head, Salazar resigned himself to hunger that night. He would, of course, follow his friend and endeavor to keep him from trouble.

-

The fish were relatively easy to spear with his long claws, and after he washed the daggers fastidiously in the stream. This, for whatever reason, amused the other, and he found himself the object of unexpected teasing.

"What do you expect me to do," he finally demanded, "clean them with my tongue or let the grime remain and fester?"

"Seeing as how you actually drink blood…"

"Not dead blood, and not fish blood."

This brought an interested expression. Although Godric had guessed his nature several years ago, discussions on the topic were few and far between due to Salazar's natural reticence concerning the matter. "Why?"

"Why not dead, or fish?"

"Dead."

A semi-lengthy explanation would certainly be required for this. "Death sours it to the point where it is all but inedible. It would be as if you decided to eat carrion three weeks dead. And high levels of fear worsen it as well."

"Then how do you feed from deer and things?"

"I do not take anywhere near enough to bring them close to death, and aside from being held motionless, they never feel a thing. So they aren't as terrified as they would be were a wolf or bear attacking and actually causing pain."

That brought a startled look. "How is it possible to take their blood without them feeling it? Doesn't it hurt when you bite?"

"Not if I'm careful." Curling his upper lip back, the dark-haired boy displayed the pointed incisors. "They're far sharper than any sword you could ever find. When I've the luck to come across sleeping prey, then it's rare even for it to wake up."

"Neat…" The golden-haired paused before launching the next question, apparently more than willing to take advantage of the current openness. "Why don't you ever prey on humans?"

Oh, how to answer that… Choosing his words carefully, he began. "First, because of the fear. A deer isn't intelligent enough to know that it's losing blood if it can't see me and can't feel me, and so isn't quite as afraid. Humans are different; they'll realize that they are, and then panic. So unless the person is not afraid to begin with, the blood sours."

"And second?"

"Second, deer and wild boar and whatnot are not thinking, rational beings. Humans are. If I've other options, I won't take from an unwilling, self-aware creature. And there are almost always other options."

"Oh." He was obviously considering the ramifications of that, and the next question came as no surprise. "What if it was a willing host?"

"…Then I would, after consideration, and if there were no better options. Willingness aside, the loss of blood could weaken someone, especially if not strong in the first place."

"How much do you take?"

"About as much as would be present in a fox, if I've not eaten in two, maybe three days. But that varies on what I catch from night to night. If I was successful the previous night, less; if I hadn't found anything for four or five, then definitely more."

"Hmm… So why not fish blood?"

Salazar grimaced in distaste. "Fish aren't warm-blooded. And they taste vile, to boot."

"What's warm-blooded got to do with it?"

"Do you eat slugs?"

Now it was the other's turn to wrinkle his face in disgust, and the dark boy grinned at the expression. "Precisely. Not to mention that it's not as filling."

"Ah." The blonde one glanced at the three fat fish on the ground. "You'll pardon me if I don't share that opinion. These look excellent."

"You'll pardon me if I consider them on the same order as slugs," was the rather sarcastic reply as the two headed back toward their abode of the past month.

"I will? That doesn't sound right… Maybe you just need re-education. And perhaps I should be the one to give it."

"You? Teach me?" He gave an incredulous snort, willingly veering off onto the new topic.

"What? Stranger things have happened."

"Like what?" he demanded.

"Well, like me not being dead yet from the chimeras, dragons, hydras, merfolk, centaurs, and the rest of those things."

"Touché," was admitted reluctantly. "That is indeed _almost_ as stunning as you attempting to teach." A smirk. "Almost, but not quite."

"Oh, really?"

"Truly. You could not teach anyone a single thing, except perhaps how to get killed by wild animals in the swiftest possible manner."

"I could so teach…"

The discussion of Godric Gryffindor's teaching abilities continued well past the time it took to return to their temporary home, and only ceased when the fish had finished cooking and begun to be devoured.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the blonde boy looked up, and, around a mouthful of fish, stated, "I want a thestral."

Now that was a surprise, Salazar considered sarcastically. A meat-eating, unlucky, and invisible horse. Of course he wanted one. "And when did you decide on this?"

"Just now," he shrugged.

"Really."

"Yes. But I can wait until next spring to start looking for a foal."

Surprisingly, there was an amount of common sense to the words; a foal would be much easier to tame than a grown mare or a stallion. And a tamed thestral could actually be useful, as well.

"Very well." He watched with a grin as the other almost choked on the food he was chewing.

"Wha-a!"

"Hm, is the intellect vanishing from an overdose of laziness already? It was but a few words…"

"You're not going to argue?"

"No. Why would I?"

Godric opened his mouth, then snapped it shut; the dark one smirked.

"You really should learn a bit of logic, prince. It might aid you in more things than one - it could possibly even endow you with a bit of common sense."

"But… But… I thought…"

"You actually thought?"

He was favored with a glare. "I do sometimes, you know."

"Right. You know the sun is coming up in the west tomorrow."

"Ha, ha."

"Indeed. Why would I argue against a thestral foal? The younglings are easier to tame, and assuming that we can separate one from the herd…"

"Of course we can -" he was interrupted.

"…Without undue injury or risk, I see no problem." An unholy expression of glee. "Though you'll have to kiss your paramour Laziness goodbye."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not going to hunt for your new pet."

"Oh…"

"Yes, oh. You are perfectly capable of doing that on your own."

"I guess."

Salazar rolled his eyes. "There is one more condition."

The other was understandably wary. "And it is…'

"You must be alive and in good health." Smirk. "Meaning, of course, that you won't be going back to watch that manticore tonight."

Godric growled low in his throat, and the dark boy understood perfectly that, condition or no, neither of them would be sleeping this night. Foolhardy, stubborn, reckless…

-

As was usual, Salazar left the cave a few hours before dusk. The summer sun was far enough so that the light was only a mild irritation to his skin. He hoped very much to obtain a meal swiftly, in hopes of stopping his friend before reaching the manticore. Sighing, he admitted to himself that a portion of the other's recklessness must be wearing off on him - fortunately tempered by common sense and cunning.

Luck was with him; a doe near the stream was burdened with a fawn and did not run as fast. He smiled as the two bounded away, then apparated back to the cave. It was empty.

"Godric, you fool…"

The tracks were still warm, and he followed with preternatural speed. Third night. Manticores' habits were know by him; his parents had once told him of others who had had the misfortune of meeting one. It never took long for such a one to die, even of his kind. A human stood no chance. What was that spell he had heard his mother use once, long, long ago? Yes… It would be needed tonight. There was no other way. On the third night, manticores feasted, having lulled their prey into complacency. Third night…

A startled yell came from somewhere before him, and he doubled his speed. Oh, Merlin, no… And then he heard the crooning, the death-song the manticore sang to its prey.

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Okay, folks, that's it, the first chapter. -grins- I even managed to fit a cliffy in, just for you! Aren't you happy? -listens- Say what? No? You don't like cliffies? Aw... -affronted- Well, if you're going to be like _that_... Fine, fine. Here you go.

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Godric ducked, avoiding needle-sharp lions' claws by a hair. How had this happened? One moment, he was perched in his tree waiting for the beauty to show, and the next he heard a branch crack… He'd spun around, and lo and behold there was the manticore staring at him. He'd fallen out of the tree in surprise. And now, sore from the drop, he was trying to get away from the beast. His concentration was shot, so there went Apparating, and he could not afford to spare so much as a single second to go for his wand, not when the creature was on top of him like this…

Sorry, Sal, he thought in some corner of his mind. Guess I should have listened, huh?

Throwing himself backwards, he stole a precious moment to draw his wand - and groaned. It wasn't there. It must have fallen loose, probably when he'd tumbled from the branch. The manticore loomed over him, poised to strike. Merlin, could this possibly get any worse?

And then a slender body was between he and the beast, and dagger-like claws were threatening the manticore, and a menacing hiss promised death if it should come further. Pushing himself further back, he tried to calm himself enough to transform, but it was useless, and he had no wand. The manticore hesitated, knowing that a vampire was not such easy prey; but Godric watched the human face as lust for flesh overcame caution. A scorpion's tail arched toward his friend, and he heard Salazar scream out a spell…

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

It fell, lifeless. Shaking slightly, the lion-haired boy stood, looking at the other.

"I lost my wand."

An Accio later, it was in his hand.

"Thank you," but his tone conveyed more than the thanks for the wand. "I should have listened…"

His voice trailed off, and his eyes narrowed in concern. Salazar was shuddering, barely perceptibly, and grey eyes were beginning to glaze over. He raked the other's body with his eyes, stopping abruptly at the arm, and the thin, reddening line.

"Oh no. Oh Merlin, no."

Just before the manticore died, his friend - his brother - had been scratched by the stinger.

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-laughs- What? You didn't think I'd actually be nice, did you? Sorry, folks! Wait until the next chapter, I'm afraid - and here's a hint: it might come just a little bit faster if you review. Bye now!


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